Thursday, June 28, 2007

Dead Eagles Don't Fly (I Don't Know Why, They Didn't Die)

she is speaking as if she lives
in Toyland.
I can only give her the words I wrote

she is sitting on the stolen barstool
everyone used to sit on.
back in the day

(I stole one; its in my house now)

inadvertently I make her
bare her feet and
unexpectedly I feel good.
my feet are bare too

(always are at home)

as she is driving she can only
taste wine from my lips.
she does

we’re having coffee in the garden.
I smoke trying to keep
the smoke from her muddy pool eyes

inadvertently she is sighing delicately
smiling laughing naturally

so do I.
my dark cloud mocked
by deep muddy pool eyes

later on the sofa I’m holding her.
she says ‘old men out there!’
and asks me to close the blinds

Ford Dagenham

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